


Home is where the heart is

by emocsibe



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Assassins, First Meetings, Interplanetary Travel, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prosthesis, Referenced Past War, Sad Backstories ahead, Strangers to Lovers, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocsibe/pseuds/emocsibe
Summary: "He turned his gaze from the outer space, heard his left eye adjusting – a quiet clik-clik-clak, a familiar echo in his head – as he focused on Billy. The man was watching him; they both were watching each other – Billy with suspicion, Goodnight with fascination. Billy Rocks – he repeated the name in his head – what a fitting name it was."Or the story of how Billy Rocks picked up a stray who knew the same amount about a warm, welcome family as he did: absolutely nothing; and about how their realtionships evolved into being each other's homes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sperrywink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sperrywink/gifts).



> I feel a bit uncertain about this fill, to be honest, and hope that it somehow fits the request.

 

Billy Rocks was everything he needed to be to survive: attentive, silent and most importantly, patient. But after he was refused to be sold some important pieces he needed to fix the core of his spaceship for the sixth time in a row, he felt his anger flare up. He was not in a mood for a fight but he also discarded the idea of starting his next journey without everything fixed in the core – his life depended on it being functional in more than one way. He started cursing under his breath which the shopkeeper didn’t like very much – truthfully, hated so much that he was the one who initiated the fight with a lazy but powerful swing of his fist, one which Billy countered without any problems. People always misjudged him based on his appearance – he was human, after all, not the tallest or broadest of his kind, but what these folks didn’t see was how muscled he was underneath those black jeans and turtlenecks he wore all the time. This person also made the mistake of thinking him the weaker one of them, which resulted in him having a mild concussion, and Billy walking away from the store emptyhanded and with his knuckles gleaming with green blood that wasn’t his, and some red underneath which was indeed his. He needed to get some gloves made of some real thick leather or synthetic material, he thought as he walked in the direction of his last hope, a small but promising store by the name of ‘Cullen & Co.’, and hoped that they were indeed humans, just as the name suggested.

He knew that around these parts only those could get around who had some fancy names to themselves, or some money on them to buy their safety – and well, he was neither of these types. He had enough credits to buy what he needed, to upgrade his ship a few times a year, repair it on occasion, but that was all. The bounty hunting he had been doing since his accident paid decently, providing him with the needed resources, money and a lot of free time. Yeah, it wasn’t the lack of credits that kept him from getting the required gears but the mentality of these people; they hated humans with such a passion, he should consider himself lucky for not being hunted in the town he was in. For his greatest luck, the folks here weren’t particularly strong, just huge in build and bigger in talk. Billy knew their kind: if they said they had lifted a house, it mostly meant a bird table, or something equally small; still they would brag about it nonetheless.

As he entered the shop he was greeted by an empty counter and absolutely no people in sight, which made him wary.

“Hello?” he said in a loud, clear voice, then silence resettled in the room, bringing him back to worrying. If he couldn’t find the shopkeepers, and couldn’t purchase the parts he needed he wouldn’t dare to go where he wanted to. It was further away than what his ship could make in this state it was in.

“Oh, hello there, a moment” shouted back a cheery voice from somewhere around one of the back rooms. A few seconds later a young woman emerged from behind a door, her copper hair dulled with dust and her smile matching the voice she spoke in. “Hello, my name’s Emma,  what can I get for you?”

“Here’s the list, I need everything you have from it” Billy handed over a crumpled piece of paper, accidentally dirtying Emma’s hand with the green grime he had forgotten to swipe off from his knuckles. “Sorry about that.”

“No problems here. Although it makes me wonder who’ll be sporting some nice bruises around town tomorrow?”

“Shopkeeper few streets down. Green and angry.”

“Eh, Milah is always a trouble, watch out for him. A big brute with no business sense” she said while gesturing around herself, collecting the smaller wires and cables from the shelves, putting them into linen bags “But at least he got it for now, right? This should teach him a lesson.”

Billy nodded at that, inspecting the contents of the shop, wondering if that one valve would keep on functioning for another month or not, then decided that he needed one of those too, better be prepared after all.

“Also need one of these.”

“Help yourself, dear, I’m going to get the bigger pieces from the back, just a moment.”

As Emma disappeared into the storage, he reached up to take one from its box when movement caught his eyes and he spun, hand already going for his knife in his belt. He calmed some when what his weapon was pointing at was another human, a man, with his arms raised and fingers spread, indicating that he wasn’t armed.

“Forgive me for following you, my friend, but I saw the little commotion between you and that unpleasant fellow at the other store, and I wanted to make sure that you get what you’re looking for. But I know Ms. Cullen and how she wouldn’t be like that to anyone, she’s too kind, y’know? A real angel around here.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why help you?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t a man do something nice for a fellow human once in a while? I’ve been bored out of my mind, needed a walk and then you just strode down on the street after that fight, if we can call that a fight, and…” he trailed off as he looked at Billy’s hand, the alien and own blood still dripping down from it “Oh, let me. Here, take this, and maybe you want to see a medic. Nasty little infections can their blood cause, y’know.”

“Thanks.”

Billy took the kerchief the other offered, still eyeing him warily, as if awaiting an attack at any seconds. He was thankful for the handkerchief, though; he hated if his hands were coated in any kinds of alien fluids – they usually smelt and felt like someone just died and started to rot away in a puddle of vomit.

“Goodnight is my name, Goodnight Robicheaux” the stranger offered him a hand “Enchanté, mon ami.”

He reached out carefully and shook his hand, nodding back in acknowledgement. He had heard the name, he was sure of it, but just as he hadn’t cared about it back then, he didn’t care now. Big names only meant bigger troubles but not bigger souls, he had learnt this fast. Being an assassin had taught him things about the world that schools and parents couldn’t, had taught him ways of seeing reality around himself, seeing people for what they were. And if you had a good enough name, someone had a good enough price for seeing it on a tombstone.

“You ain’t telling me yours? I’m hurt, mister. I thought we’re becoming friends here, bonding over a cheater coward.”

“Cheater?”

“Yeah, Milah there persuaded me to play with high stakes that one time and unfairly won my shuttle. The problem is, he’d sold it right after, so I’m stuck here.”

Billy hummed in response, already sensing where Mr. Robicheaux was going with this. It didn’t take too much thought that he wanted a ride away from here, which Billy completely understood, seeing the not so warm welcome he had been given. Still, he wasn’t one for inviting strangers on his ship, his line of work making him suspicious, always suspecting a hidden motive behind every smile, every kind word sent his way. Ms. Cullen got back then, arms full with seemingly everything he’d asked for. He placed the valve he was still clutching in his hand onto the pile, then helped packing everything in the sacks.

“Hello Mr. Robicheaux, you need something? Found a new ship maybe?”

“I’m not so lucky, I’m afraid, Ms. Emma, no. Just was worrying over this gentleman’s health after that nice little brawl there. You know how Milah can be.”

“That real generous of you. Will this be all, dear?” she turned to Billy who was trying very hard to suppress a frown at those honeyed words. His health, of course, and not his ship. Of course.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

He paid for his purchase, greeted Mrs. Cullen once more and slinging the sack on his back he left the shop. He was walking calmly, listening to the footsteps behind him, and almost missing the sound of cracking bone from the side. Almost. It was Milah, crackling his fist and looking extremely angry – but to be honest, for Billy, Milah’s species always looked angry with their down-turned mouths and frowning eyes. He looked him square in the eyes, determination radiating from his whole stance as he halted.

“Ya’re not gonna get away with what ya’ve done to me, ya little shit. Come ‘ere and fight like a man if ya dare” he shouted and got even more furious when Billy’s face remained impassive, and the man started to walk once again. He roared and charged at him, and Billy dropped his bag, knives in hands, ready to defend himself, when Milah came to a halt, suddenly looking taken aback, almost afraid. Billy turned to look where he was looking at, and saw Goodnight, gun drawn and aimed at his attacker.

“What business do you have with my friend here if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Came in earlier and didn’t like my welcome, human filth, little piece of…”

“Alright, I think it’s just the other way ‘round. You don’t like us. But you shouldn’t forget your place, my friend. You can cheat. You can frown at us. But never forget who fought for us all when you were hiding and crying during the war. Never forget it. Go now, before you got me angry.”

Milah looked at Billy again, then back to Robicheaux, then finally decided that it was a lost case. He wasn’t brave or furious enough to take on two at once, not when they were armed, all weapons aimed at him, so he turned around and ran.

Billy turned to Goodnight, but before he could say a thing, the man let out a little laugh, sounding too relieved for his earlier surety he was talking to and acting in front of Milah.

“Oh, thank God, I don’t think I could have pulled the trigger if he stayed. You know” he glanced at Billy with an apologetic look on his face as he holstered his gun “after the war and everything, it’s not so easy to take another life.”

“Never is.”

“You speak from experience?”

He received no answer, not even a motion of Billy’s head indicating yes or no; the man just put his bags back on his shoulders and walked away. Billy heard the sound of boots behind him, felt eyes on him and it made him uneasy. He stopped and turned so abruptly that he saw Robicheux froze for a second. Maybe he was really out of it – violence, fights, all the like.

“What do you want?”

“To be honest, my greatest wish right now is to get off of this planet as soon as humanly possible. If you could help me with that, I’d be eternally grateful. I think my welcome here is wearing thin, so to say. I can help you with things like shopping and staying on people’s better side, my name usually makes them show a little respect.”

Billy frowned at the dirt between their boots, not looking at the other, contemplating the pros and contras of a partnership. On one hand, if Robicheaux was well-known, it was bound to make his life easier when it came to getting along with others, on the other hand, however, there was the law of the big names. He didn’t need an assassin sent after his partner of sorts, and thus, after him. Still, he thought, it would worth a shot, if it made getting his ship in better shape easier every now and then.

“Okay. Billy Rocks.”

“Great, thank you kindly.” The smile Robicheaux showed him was so bright it could be used to light the entirety of his ship, Billy thought, shook his head, and motioned beside himself.

“I don’t like being followed.”

“Oh, of course, who likes that? I get it. Thank you again, my friend.”

They walked in silence, but Billy literally could feel the need vibrating through his new partner to talk, if not about anything else but the weather, or how grateful he was, and frankly, none of those interested Billy, so he put on his most intimidating façade, and hoped that Robicheaux would get the hint to shut his mouth even before he opened it. When they arrived to his ship, however, the man couldn’t hold it in longer, and let out a sharp whistle at the sight in front of them. 

“Whoa, this beauty is really yours? Such a nice ship, good and trustworthy, this kind, I’m telling you. I haven’t seen one of these in ages, thought they were all destroyed.”

“She’s really mine, yes. Saengmyeong is the name. It means life.”

“Real nice sounding name, although I’m not sure I could tell if anyone asked about it. You gotta teach me pronounce it.”

“I’m off in two hours. Be back until then if you want to gather your things.”

“Roger that. You promise you won’t leave without me?”

“Two hours. Until that, yes, I promise. Go.”

And thus Robicheaux went back, and Billy started to install every new components and replace the worn, malfunctioning ones, and when he finished, he felt his breathing become easier and his blood flow more stable. It always felt nice, to have everything in the best condition – and as his doctor had once told him, the better shape his ship was in, the longer his heart would serve him. He was still fiddling around with smaller updates when Robicheaux got back, a few bags hanging from his shoulders, mouth agape at the sight of his ship’s inside.

“This ship is truly beautiful both out and inside, Billy” he muttered as he put his packs down, and sank to his knees a few feet away from him. He really seemed amazed, so Billy smirked a bit, but said nothing for a long time.

“I’m surprised you’ve ever seen one.” He broke the silence after nearly a quarter of a hour, while placing the housing back, activating the safety locks around the core.

“It was one of these that saved my life. They were circling above the battlefield, looking for survivors, and one’s radar detected me, and they got me on board just in time… Small enough to navigate between the enemy sensors, y’know? And silent. I hated how silent it was, I thought I lost my hearing when I woke up first, just this static all around, the buzzing in my head…But no, I lost… Well, a story for some other day.” 

Billy looked at him for a long moment, eyes searching him, trying to see the whole man and not just the shield he created around himself – because there was one; being loud and talkative, annoyingly so, all hid something. He suspected that it had to do something with the war Goodnight had been talking about earlier, but he didn’t particularly care about the tragic story of his life. He got his own, thank you very much.

After he’d finally given the coordinates to the autopilot, and got comfortable in his favourite armchair with a mug of tea in his hands, he watched as Goodnight, instead of packing out of his bags, sat down as well, and gazed out on the windows, eyes unmoving, thoughts lost to the space itself. He was a very broken man, Billy decided, but didn’t dwell on it.

 

***

 

Some people, mostly folks who have never travelled by spacecraft, took a liking to telling others how cold a voyage out there was, how unwelcoming and secluded it felt, but they knew nothing of it really. For Goodnight, being out there, amongst the countless stars and planets, being so tiny that no one would notice him, was the perfect place and way of existence. Even before the war, he’d liked travelling with his brothers and parents, liked how the low murmur of their ship always managed to lull him into a dreamless sleep, liked how the view out of the window looked like. He had loved playing hide-and-seek with his siblings, carefully removing panelling where they had known there were no wires or cables they could ruin by accident, and hiding, sometimes for hours. Their mother had forbade them of playing catch, since she’d valued her porcelains more than anything, and had been afraid of them breaking any piece of her favourite sets. Their father, well, he had been always reading; holomagazines, old, printed books, or files his corporation had sent him for supervision. He had rarely talked to his children, but they had known only this, the idea of a different father hadn’t appeared in their mind until much later, when they would swap stories about their childhood, huddled close with other too young, too frightened boys in the depths of their own graves, the trenches dug by already dead men for not yet dead men.

After he had returned home – a crippled, ruined man to a crippled, ruined home, one that was less with two children and a sister’s and mother’s sanity – he’d looked around and had found the place too crumpled, too chokingly tight, even with the two unused rooms. He’d needed to get out of there, to run as fast and as far as he could. It hadn’t felt like a home anymore. Even his ship had been only a ship for him – not a nest he’d been attached to by any kinds of strings. It hadn’t have a name, just a line of numbers marking its sides, and he had only memorised the first and last two. Seeing how Billy had made himself a home aboard of his ship, how he’d named it, it all made him jealous. He’d always wanted a life where he was a nobody, a poor boy of a poor mother, who had never seen war, who’d never excelled at taking lives. But he had the past he had, and could only run from it – so he ran. And now, after all the running and facing the world alone he found himself sitting across a man - not very kind, too silent and too difficultly readable, which made his skin crawl with caution – but still someone whose company he wanted to keep. He was glad someone had taken him in, had allowed him to leave with them, just as he was thankful for the company, something he’d missed terribly. If he was being honest with himself, he already had grown tired of this backwater, desert-dry excuse of a planet and its inhabitants, so getting away and gaining companion while he was at it? It was a hell of a good combination, one he was fully satisfied with. 

He turned his gaze from the outer space, heard his left eye adjusting – a quiet clik-clik-clak, a familiar echo in his head – as he focused on Billy. The man was watching him; they both were watching each other – Billy with suspicion, Goodnight with fascination. Billy Rocks – he repeated the name in his head – what a fitting name it was. He’d seen determination in people, but what Billy had displayed earlier that day was something new. He held his head high and would have faced Milah again, after defending himself once, fighting back with so much fervour he’d torn the skin on the back of hands. He was a hell of a fighter, one that probably knew no fear or retreat – the opposite of what Goodnight himself felt being reduced to every time he heard a gunshot or saw too much blood. Getting into a bar fight, defending himself in a hand-to-hand combat, that he could do; when it came to guns, loud guns that made a mess if the target was hit, well, those were the problem.

“What do you do while travelling? Or do you usually drive this beauty?”

“Just if I have to get away quickly. There are books in your room. That one, there” he pointed at one of the doors, and Goodnight took the hint, stood up and grabbed his bags. Before he’d enter the room, however, he looked back at Billy and smiled at him.

“Thank you again, mon ami, for letting me tag along.”

“Hn.”

And with that, the conversation was over, and Goodnight retreated and looked at the titles on the numerous shelves in his cabin. Some he knew, a few he had already read, but he considered himself extremely lucky after discovering that most of them were unfamiliar to him. That, at least, promised some sort of entertainment on the long run, if his companion was continuing to be less than talkative.

 

***

 

At first they didn’t even talk when it wasn’t needed; Goodnight would retreat to his assigned room, and do whatever he was doing, and Billy minded his own business just like before gaining a traveling companion. They only saw each other at meals – Billy insisted on cooking, and found it rather odd that Goodnight had never asked him what the food was made of, or whether it was poisoned or not; he would just start eating when a plate was placed in front of him, without hesitation of any sorts. Maybe, Billy thought, not everyone was as suspicious at the world around them as he was, maybe it was something only people of his ex-profession were wary of. Oh, and when they were sitting around the small table, Goodnight just couldn’t shut up. Billy guessed it was because he had to spend almost the whole day silent, and tried to compensate for it during that daily half an hour they spent together. Goodnight talked about literally everything; the planet they had met, another one that Billy had never heard about but apparently had the best ale one could drink, then how the books were underrated compared to holopads and other screens, how younger people didn’t know about how good the old and worn pages smelt like. The only thing the man never spoke about was himself – not even his eye, not even his experience with the war, his screams that pierced through the walls almost every night, or the real reason why he was travelling around. So when Billy finally got fed up with the constant rambling of his, he raised his head and looked Goodnight square in the eyes: one ice-blue, and one steel-silver and black iris. The loss of an eye was a great trauma, to a soldier even more. Not only had they relearn what was it to look at things and see just the same as before; they had to get accustomed it, calibrate the new organ a thousand times until it was almost right, and if it was their preferred eye for focusing, aiming, they were usually done for in their military career. He was actually curious about this after the first weeks of their journey, after the first almost twenty meals he had to look at the artificial eye.

“How did you get that?”   

“The eye?” the question blurred up from Goodnight’s throat as if Billy had only torn up an old but not fully healed wound. It also surprised Billy, given that he hadn’t seen anything else that could pass as artificial. He let his eyes roam over the other man’s body, but still not catching anything else out of ordinary, he nodded. The change in Goodnight’s features were abrupt and slightly pained, the few wrinkles around his eyes darkened, and if Billy would ever have to point out an occasion where one’s spirit left their body and flew back into the past, well, Goodnight seemed pretty close to that.

“I told you about that rescue right?” He seemed uncertain, his fingers fiddling together, nails catching the skin, tearing into flesh as he spoke. “That they got there just in time? It was just one time. Once… Once they left me there for longer. On the field. There were so many dead, Billy, so many, and I thought they were watching me. I thought ‘Goodnight, watch out for them, they gonna catch you, never letting you leave here. They are jealous of you, that you still breathe’. I was frightened out of my mind, I was running with every strength I had, and I wasn’t paying attention. There was an explosion – one moment I was looking back, everything dark and the air smelling of blood and everything a human body can produce, and in the next, the whole scene went into a blinding, white light, it was painful for the eyes and there was this deep, sudden sound, and I heard it and felt it as it shook my bones – and there were shrapnels too. I was caught in it, a whole storm of them, and I didn’t see it coming until, well, until I couldn’t see a thing. Until I had an eye pierced straight into two. They said if it went deeper I would have died, or turned into a vegetable. I don’t remember how I got out of there; I know only what they told about my rescue. That they saw a bloody mess of a face and limbs staggering towards a recon camp. That they thought the dead were rising. That there were rifles aimed at me, and that one guy was saying prayers.”

“And yet you’re here. Not a risen dead, nor a deformed human.” Goodnight let out a tired, half-hearted hum at that, and turned his head towards the large window. Billy followed his gaze, and said nothing.

“They did something akin to wonder there, or so did the doctors say, and so did I feel. My left eye was a loss, and they said that my right leg got infected while wading through the dead. They took that too, without waiting for me to wake, to give consent… Billy, I had never had a bigger fear than losing a limb – losing a leg. If asked, I’d have said that one should take my life before my legs – so you can imagine what I went through after waking up. It was hell on a fucking silver platter. Eventually they got me this one” he bent down a bit and knocked on his leg; it gave a bit different sound than Billy had anticipated. It didn’t sound hollow, or metal-like, so it had to be made one of those new state-of-art materials that were too expensive for common folks, and of such quality, that by popular rumours, one could regain some feelings in a lost body part. “It doesn’t feel like something that’s ‘mine from the start’ as the doctors claimed I should think of it after some time. It feels like a hell of an ugly sweater that was a gift for me, and I have to wear it but would set it on fire without hesitation. But, y’know, it’s a god damned leg. You don’t throw one away, because you want to stand and walk and stuff. I have accepted it. I’m accepting it. Sometimes I forget about it for a whole day, only remembering having it when I get in the shower.” Goodnight’s voice trailed off, and Billy caught himself wondering about how the scene would look like: Goodnight, nakedly standing in front of the shower cabin, hand already on the handle, eyes cast downwards, blankly staring at a leg that is as alien to him as it could be. He imagined the dread welling up in Goodnight’s chest, he imagined his tears and his strength to get in the cabin, get clean, get out, and then go back to living, as if nothing was amiss. He reached out and patted Goodnight on the shoulder, for what he received an unbelieving but rapidly warming up look. Goodnight was smiling at him – weakly, barely –, and Billy felt his stomach flutter.

He watched Goodnight standing up and turning, and for a moment he wanted to reach out for him, and tell his own story – but he found himself unable to. Goodnight had a sad story, but many people could say the same – but this didn’t make anyone a better person, or a more trustable companion. Billy still had his uncertainty, but it was quieted down, at least for now, up until Goodnight proved to be against him, which Billy started to doubt. Because – he reasoned as he was laying on his bed that night – not everyone had such amount of hatred in their eyes as Goodnight, at least not against themselves. In Billy’s opinion, hating one’s own self was the sign of a changing if not already changed man – in the direction of something better. He knew it as he had felt it, had hated himself after quitting his previous job, before he had become something better than his past self. Goodnight’s eyes, however, weren’t only filled with guilt and blame, but somewhere in the depths of them, there was a spark, appearing from time to time, mostly when Goodnight was telling a nicer story or a witty joke, and Billy found himself ready to count these occasions from now on, and maybe becoming the cause of a few of them. He would try to open up more, he decided, and pulled up the blanket to his steady chest, in which there was no real beat, no movement of life. It was still, but he felt alive for the first time in ages. He thought he had his heart back, because the void in his chest was filled with the need to please Goodnight, or at least to get to know him better. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep, his breath slowing and falling into pace with the low whirring of the ship.

 

***

           

It felt like weeks after Goodnight’s tale about how he got his additional parts – but in reality months passed by, each and every of them bringing surprises and changes in their wake. First of all, Billy actually had started to communicate with him after their talk, and Goodnight had found himself rather fond of the company he provided. He could tell that Billy had tried his very best to keep a discourse flowing, to keep himself talking to Goodnight even after he had clearly reached the end of his comfort-zone. Goodnight had insisted at times like this that they should do something that involved less speech – so they had moved to the kitchen area and while Billy had been cooking dinner, Goodnight had made tea for Billy and coffee for himself. After these small pauses they had held their own ‘story-time’ as Goodnight liked to refer to it, where they would tell little things about their lives, share something they had been comfortable sharing the other with. Somewhere along these months, these sessions, Goodnight had found himself in a situation he had wanted to avoid and embrace at the same time: he had fallen for Billy – so smoothly, so slowly but steadily that it had almost felt inevitable.

And now he was here –Goodnight thought, standing in front of Billy’s door with all his anxiety bundled together in his stomach – ready to fuck up a perfect partnership just because he couldn’t keep his heart’s wish and his stupid feelings trapped inside anymore. He wanted to embrace Billy, to kiss him and hold him even closer, to go to sleep with him by his side. He wanted and craved affection and love, and hoped for the best. He wanted to tell, to show how much his feelings for Billy had grown, how much he would love to have him as his lover – but, in the same time, he also wanted to not get kicked off the ship he had started to consider as a home. He had to be careful, he knew, but he couldn’t wait a single day more. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

When it opened, he found himself face to face with Billy, the man sporting his usual pyjamas he preferred to wear when not having to land his ship and go out. He looked at Goodnight and nodded his head to the side, inviting him inside his cabin. Goodnight had never been there before, but it was what he would describe as ‘clearly Billy’s room’. It was pristine and collected, just the man himself, but also decorated with many delicate ornaments and small objects. There were several balls hanged above his bed, each one of them glittering as the light fell on them – they were differently coloured and of many sizes, forming a system of planets and starts inside the ship. And then there were the plants, small trees varying from red-leaved Mytolyan palm to a humble Bonsai from their home planet. On the walls at least a dozen of knives and daggers of the same design were displayed, with the two biggest at close proximity to the bed’s headboard. Ever the vigilant.

He stood there nervously in the middle of the room, picking the skin of his own fingers as he waited for some divine help – which of course, didn’t arrive. He looked at Billy, at his tangled hair that was loose around his face, at his grey pants and black T-shirt that covered him from ankle to neck, and at his eyes, his eyes that were trained on Goodnight, inspecting him curiously.

“Ah, right” Goodnight cleared his throat and tugged at the hem of his shirt “I’ve been wondering if I should tell you this, or just keep it to myself, but, you see, I can’t. I mean, I can’t choose the latter. I need to tell you and possibly you will kick me out but please at least wait until we reach some planet first, okay?”

“No promises.” And Billy had the guts to smirk. That bastard. Goodnight felt like a man ready to collapse and Billy fucking Rocks was showing him all of his neat, white teeth in a blinding smile of mockery.

“Very funny, mon cher. I’m ready to laugh.”

“If memory serves right, you were saying something? Or should I open the latch in advance?”

“Shush you. Right. I have never done this before, so please forgive me if it’s less than what it should be… Please, would you consider going on a date with me?”

And that was the point where Goodnight, who had seen lots and lots, had the chance to witness something breathtakingly wonderful, something unique that frightened him and enthralled him at the same time. Billy burst out in laughter, his hands covering his mouth as he sat heavily on the side of his bed, eyes glittering with tears of immense amusement. He looked like someone who was having the time of his life, while Goodnight just stood there, shocked to the core, as unsure about himself as he only rarely got. What did he do wrong? Or was it wrong at all? He needed help and needed answers and looked around with quick, jerky movements to look for something that would give something, anything away.

The next thing he felt were hands on either side of his face, calloused but gentle hands, and a mouth against his own, hot breath and a playful tongue, a small lick – and the world stopped spinning around him as he focused on the face in front of his; it was Billy’s. And he was kissing him. His reaction to hug the man closer was immediate, fingers digging in the soft material of his shirt, drawing him closer, flush against his chest. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him, and he welcomed what it brought along: calmness and relief.

When they parted Goodnight caught a little smirk playing on Billy’s lips, lighting up his eyes with joy, and also warming up Goodnight’s heart. To see Billy smile – it was a rare sight, but just as rare things are more often than not considered highly valuable, Goodnight counted it as a remarkable treasure one should always adore.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Most definitely a yes.”

And Goodnight actually laughed when Billy smirked the next time.

 

***

 

The bazaars of Ni’Tar were well-known and highly praised for every goods there was exceptional, almost all of it rarities and lasts of a kind, or the results of hard, generations-long work, inhuman craftsmanship or any other unimaginable means. The stands were always decorated according to the actual season – and since Ni’Tar had eight, the changes were quick and the results breath-taking. It was the Season of Spirits when Billy and Goodnight reached the docks, ready on going on their first date, which, according to their plans consisted of a nice walk, a hot meal, some more walking and visiting the bathhouses. Those facilities were also mentioned amongst the greatest charms the planet could offer – mineral caves with thousands of little cabins containing pools of hot water, and in some cases, a perfect view to the sky above.

Billy never really liked to wander off too far from the Saengmyeong – for obvious reasons -, but he had decided that this day would be different, if not for himself then for Goodnight. He felt as if he owed him; for the stories, for the confidence the other man had in him, for his smile and his laugh. Billy knew that he wasn’t ready to tell everything to him, but tonight, at the bath, he would show Goodnight what he really was, how he looked like, and if that wouldn’t deter Goody from starting a relationship with him, then it wouldn’t deter Billy either. He had been hiding his scars for so long, he wanted to be able to take off his shirt in front of his would-be-lover without the fear of disgusting him nagging at his thoughts. He was excellent at playing all or nothing games, having been forced to do so from his childhood, and he had never lost one before. He dreaded that he would now. It was silly, he thought as they waded through the market, holding hands and smiling together while Goodnight chattered about the things he saw, but he did care for the outcome. This time it wasn’t his life that was at stake, but his hopes. And, if life had taught him something, it was that one couldn’t exist without hopes. Hopes for the better, hopes for life or death – it really didn’t matter as long as one had something to clutch on, to hold close and cherish, because it gave reason, and reasons were the other important engines of someone’s life.

He brushed his thumb against Goodnight’s palm, looking down at their entwined hands, taking in the sight and committing it to memory if their night wouldn’t go as he hoped it would. When he glanced up, he caught sight of Goodnight watching him, blatantly staring at him while seemingly lost to the market’s beauties around them.

“Goody? Is everything alright?”

“Oh? Oh! Yes, apologies for staring. It’s just a silly thought.”

“Hm? Sillier than your other thoughts?”

“Very funny, mon cher” Goodnight chuckled at that, and gently squeezed Billy’s fingers “I was thinking about how wonderful you look with your hair down, is all. It really suits you.”

Billy reached up with his free hand and twirled a lock of hair around his fingers, falling into silence and contemplation for a moment. He had his own preferences, and having longer hair was one of them since the beginning – but no one had ever complimented him because of it before, not that he would have cared about it anyway. But now, now it felt good, to be praised for such an irrelevant thing as the length of his hair; it made his spirits lighter, his chest warmer, as if there had been a malfunction in his artificial heart. He guessed it was because this was Goody, and he had the tendency of making Billy feel better. He smiled back and leant to the side to give Goodnight a sweet, quick peck on the lips.

 

***

 

Goodnight had always considered himself a gentleman since he had been raised as one, and he tried as hard as he could to remain one in every situation – courtship not only included but put fairly close to the top of his list about these circumstances. He had his own one-night stands – quite a lot, actually –, but he had never considered and never would consider one as anything similar to properly dating someone and most importantly, properly loving someone. Besides, he had always wanted a steady partner at his side, one whom he could trust with way more than his own life. And Billy Rocks not only qualified for this, but made Goodnight’s heart overflow with a hot happiness every time he somehow reminded Goodnight of how amazing it was to spend time together doing anything on a range from absolutely nothing to conversing about important things that would otherwise never bother either of them. He was smitten, and he had it bad, he knew that, but for the first time in his changed life, he didn’t want to do anything against it. So Billy accepting his invitation to this date had made him ecstatic at least for days and low-key happy for the remaining time until this morning, which resulted in a lot of shared smiles and stolen kisses between them. It felt heavenly, to have this sort of relationship with the man, and if he had been any more religious, he would have been given a thanks to the Lord for getting them together. But the war and life in general made him bitter about the topic, so he eluded even thinking about it, but couldn’t help but wonder when they were lying cuddled together in Billy’s bed, that if there was an almighty Lord, he should probably thank them for letting them meet. Maybe it was fate, or God, or some other otherworldly power, nonetheless, he was thankful for this positive addition in his life. And oh, the mornings, when he opened his eyes – clikk clakk clakk as he blinked – and he got to see Billy as the first thing, it was almost overwhelming for him. Billy was beautiful in every way – awake and asleep, fresh and tired, angry and just as infatuated as Goodnight himself. But like this? With his face free of his usual forced-upon calmness, the mask he was constantly prying off for Goodnight’s sake after sporting it for decades, he was something else. He was all the youthfulness Goodnight didn’t have, all the joy he’d found buried deep beneath Billy’s hardened shell of seriousness: he was calm and lovely, and Goodnight always ended up in closing his eyes again, snuggling up even closer to Billy as before. And when Billy’s arm moved to embrace him, and secure him close to himself, Goodnight felt as if all the wrongness had disappeared from his world.

Having Billy to dine with him in Ni’Tar’s not most elegant but most prized restaurant really felt like the cherry on top of everything. In the past when he had been fantasizing about having a serious relationship with someone, treating them to anything and everything nice had been his first aspect to consider – he wanted to grant them whatever they wished, but with his military background, his often resurfacing distrust, and his wish for seclusion quickly drove those away that attempted to get to know him after they’d spent a night together. But, he thought, it was for the best, after all, everything that had happened before had led him to Billy, and Billy, for Goodnight, was worth it.

Their order was brought to their table, and Goodnight had to restrain his laughter at Billy’s absolutely horrified expression. He knew the dish and he loved it, but he had to admit that even though it smelled and tasted like the dream cuisine of every chef ever, it looked horrifyingly inedible.

“Goody?” Billy’s expression was priceless. He sat there as if he expected the alien dish to attack his hand if he reached for the fork.

“Relax, and try to believe me when I say, you’ll miss it once you get a taste. Here, see?” he asked, and swallowed a mouthful, then almost succeeded in choking himself to death as Billy’s face turned from disgusted and surprised into horrid and fearful. Íhe laughed after sucking in a few deep breaths’ worth of air, then offered a bite on his fork for Billy “I promise it’s amazing, cher.”

Billy only hummed then accepted what was offered him, and after a few moments of tasting the strange food, he relaxed, and took another forkful from it. Goodnight smirked.

“Any good?”

“Amazing.”

 

***

 

Billy, already sitting in the pool, looked up and watched as Goodnight stepped out of the small cabin, clad in grey shorts, his mechanical leg gleaming in the faint light. He could tell that Goodnight wasn’t fully comfortable – maybe it was because he had never seen him without trousers before, or at least that was Billy’s first guess. He reached out, water drippling from his hand, and gestured Goodnight closer and closer, until the man grabbed his hand, and let himself be led into the warm water.

“Hey.”

“Hi there.”

“You okay?” Billy asked, and clasped Goodnight’s hand into his, slowly caressing the fingers, the pads on his palm, while waiting for an answer. He saw that distant, isolated look in his lover’s eyes which always appeared whenever he talked about his past, his family, or his mechanical parts and the events that preceded getting them. He didn’t push him to talk, but made him turn to the side a bit so he had access to his back. First he only drew patterns on his skin, then, after making sure that his touch was welcomed, he started rubbing the tense muscles, trying to loosen up Goodnight in the best way he could think of. Goodnight hummed, and then silence fell, the only noises were the sloshing of the water and Goodnight’s breathing which slowly became normal; light and easy, just as Billy hoped. He tilted his head until his forehead rested on Goodnight’s back, and kissed the skin – slightly wet from his own hands and hot from the steam emerging from the pool.

“It’s waterproof. The leg I mean. Meant to last for a long-long while” Goodnight sighed and turned his head upwards, eyes directed towards the glimmering ceiling but not looking at anything in particular “Doc said it will be intact even when I have already rotten to a damned skeleton. Cheery thought isn’t it?”

“Absolutely” Billy inched closer and laid his head on Goodnight’s shoulder, staring to the side “You could always think about the old times. Like, ancient times.”

“Why would I?” Goodnight’s interest was piqued – even if only just a little, Billy was glad for it. He wanted Goody to let his negative thoughts and ghost go away for the night at least, so he would try anything and everything that he had the means to do.

“You know, there are cultures where if you were buried, and later they had to dig your remains out for whatever reason, and if they found some of your parts still intact? You got to be their patron saint or some holy God-sent person. Imagine if we all died, and the next species who finds us would be all ‘Hey, look at this, this dude’s leg is in perfect shape! We gotta name our capital after this Robicheaux or at least a feast or a church, what do you think?’ And the others would all agree of course.”

Goodnight snorted, and turned in the embrace slowly, and as he faced Billy, his eyes shone with mirth and no longer with distress.

“You’re quite a storyteller, Mr. Rocks, a true talent of shaping words.”

“Now, now, what a compliment to get” the smirk on Billy’s face was persistent, worry slowly ebbing away as he saw Goodnight relax into their situation, into this evening of peace they had for themselves.

“I believe your audience wants to reward it with something. Something real nice, maybe you’d be interested in it?”

“Sounds like a deal – but I shouldn’t accept it.”

The shocked and surprised look on Goodnight’s face almost made him regret his choice of words. Almost.

“Why not?”

“You see, I have this man I like. If a whole audience steals me away, he will be sad, and I can’t have that. But for him, for you, I’m here.”

Goodnight laughed, and wasn’t it the nicest sound Billy had heard in a long while; raspy and warm, the perfect sound to drown in. He wanted to make Goody laugh more, he wanted to make him feel content and safe, happy and loved.

“You had me worried for a moment here, cher.”

“I’m sorry Goody, I couldn’t resist. Come here” and he moved until he was straddling Goodnight’s legs, their chests almost touching, lips connecting in a most-desired, gentle kiss.

“All forgiven, darling” Billy felt the warm puffs of breath as Goodnight spoke against his mouth “But you have to give an extra kiss for that. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Goodnight wasn’t slow to comply: he drew Billy’s head closer and kissed him – and Billy could swore that the water got hotter and the air heavier as he returned all the affectionate touches and kisses with the same enthusiasm as he received them. He felt Goodnight’s pulse under his fingertips, so quick and reassuring, and his lips, his tongue against his own mouth and cheeks, the slight scratches of his beard on his skin, and then there was the presence he felt from the cave leading to their pool, and… What?

Billy’s eyes shot open and he jumped out of Goodnight’s lap and out of the water, just in time to catch the blade aimed at his lover’s head. A small droplet of blood fell from his palm, and he threw the knife back to its sender. He heard a hiss, and then a figure shot out of the dark tunnel, knocking him off balance, into the dirt. He was on his feet again in no time, and as he got a punch in for the intruder, he glanced at Goodnight, who was once again shocked to the core, seemingly not quite yet processing what was happening.

“Goody!”

He had to duck and turn back to face his opponent, but he wished he could run to his lover and shake him, hold him and comfort him, and he cursed this idiot of a brute for interrupting their sweet time and for making Goodnight’s difficultly found peace disappear. He was furious at whomever this man was, and this, he thought, was well-represented in his angry hits and livid kicks as he fought the man and pinned him to the ground, mercilessly digging in his heel into his stomach.

“Who are you?!”

“Heh… What does it matter?”

“Right” Billy grimaced and grabbing the intruder’s hair, he smashed his head into the ground, smirking when he heard the loud thud “But why are you here?”

Goodnight choose this moment to arrive next to Billy, after scrambling to his legs after the initial breakdown vanished. The stranger indicated towards him with a jerk of his head, and let out a wheezing breath. Billy could only smile wider at that, and hardened his grip on the man’s arms and shook him after no answer came for a slow moment.

“For him. Geraldine sends her regards.”

“Oh.”

“What? Goody, what’s he talking about?”

“So you gotta eat his face but you don’t know about his sister? Shame…”

“Sister…? Goody, what is this?”

“Iny sent another of you?” Goodnight asked, his voice silent and passive, devoid of all emotions.

“And there will be more coming” the man coughed out a shaky laugh, and then stilled – he passed out.

“We better get the security. Come on, Goody, let’s go. Come here” and he stood up, drew Goodnight closer to his chest and kissed his temple, then turned to lead him away from the unconscious man. It was only his reflexes that saved Goodnight from another attack – the man was clearly not as comatose as they thought. He threw another knife, and Billy flung it back with perfect aim, hitting the man in the right eye, blade slicing through his brains. 

Goodnight was pale as the dead by the time they arrived to the security personnel and he was shaking so violently, Billy had to press him to his side so they could walk.   That hollow look in Goodnight’s eyes, that haunted expression on his face, was something Billy knew would hound him for a long, long time.

By the time they managed to explain everything to the security chief and got ready to leave, they both felt drained, but Billy had an inkling that he had it better than Goodnight. The man was still looking a few moment from being sick, and Billy could barely resist the urge to swear. He couldn’t stand the thought of Goodnight being tracked, but he was absolutely furious that this attack had to happen during their first date – and he was even angrier that it had to happen at all. He knew that the fragile relationship Goodnight had had with his relatives was a weak spot of his, and he rarely ever talked about the Robicheaux family’s present rather than its past. He loved reciting old stories about his older brothers, both brave and full of honour and devotion, both noble and kind; and he relished in sharing tales about how they’d pranked each other and how it had annoyed their mother to no end. He sometimes mentioned their father, a busy and dutiful man, whom the oldest brother resembled the most, but who was distant, an unreachable standard for the young boy back then. However, Goodnight had never mentioned a sister before. Why would she send assassins after her own sibling? Why would their attacker reveal her identity to them? Or had it became common during their lives, preying on one side and running away on the other?

He wanted to ask, but decided against it when he saw how Goodnight fell into bed – his, Billy’s bed – and tugged the covers immediately up to his nose, poking one hand out from under the blankets, mirroring the gesture Billy had called him closer at the pool. He slipped in next to Goodnight, and took his hands into his own, feeling his heart break at the sight of Goodnight’s tears rolling down on his cheeks, at the sounds of his quiet sobbing. No, he would ask later, or wait until Goody reveals anything he wants to, he decided, then hugged the man to his chest, whispering a soft lullaby next to his ear, humming it a bit at places. Goody slowly relaxed, and pressed a kiss on Billy’s cheek – it was clear he wanted to say something, but sleep claimed him before he could even fully open his mouth.

 

***

 

The next day was one of those that seemed to drag on forever without any indications that it would end sometime in the near future, and Goodnight quickly got tired of sitting on the now rather sadly Billy-less bed, trying to shut out everything unpleasant from his mind. It had been a long time ago that Geraldine last had sent assassins after him, but it seemed that she got out of the medical ward again. Such a pleasant outlook on his life, and on his family’s future: him out in the space, trying to get himself together, his brothers dead, his mother insane, his father swallowed by work and grief – and his sister, always on the run from the most well-guarded mental-health facilities, too keen on killing him off. Shit, and now Billy was in it too – or maybe, if they both were lucky enough, it would matter nothing to Iny, after all, she only wanted Goodnight to join their beloved brothers – and go herself as the last. Maybe her aim would never fall on Billy, maybe she would be content with sending only Goodnight into hell. Maybe it would be enough to sate such a twisted mind. She was the eldest of the four Robicheaux children, and the one to suffer the greatest blow from the war that had swept their already too cold household clean of every positive emotion and mental stability.

He was staring at his palms, at his shaking fingers and he saw blood – it was dripping on the duvet, it was soaking through it, and it was Billy’s, and he would have to wash the blood, and see how many he had murdered, how much blood he had shed, and he would hate him, despise him, send him out of his bed, his room and his ship, and he would be all alone again, without a heart that he had already given to Billy, and he felt a familiar ache in his chest, and maybe that was it, his heart parting and saying farewell, going away, tearing away from him, but no, no, this felt truly familiar, too familiar to be his heart; no, it was his lungs, he needed to breathe, breathe, and he did, finally he did, and felt a hand on his upper arm, and it belonged to Billy, Billy oh, so he did care about him, how sweet of him, and the blood was nowhere, he stared at his clean hands, one clasped between Billy’s fingers, the other clutching at the blanket. Oh, he thought, this was nice, Billy was nice.

“It’s alright, Goody. Hey. Look here” and he did, he looked at Billy’s eyes, so beautiful, so deep, and his hair as it was hanging around his face unbound, a silky mess, and his mouth, soft, sweet, forming words of endearment and encouragement.

“Billy? Could you kiss me?”

“Of course. Forget yesterday” he hummed and claimed Goodnight’s lips with his own, and he traced his cheeks and pulled him to his chest “Tomorrow is the only thing it’s worth to live for.”

“Tomorrow – right. You’ll be here tomorrow with me, right?”

“Yes, Goody, I will be here.”

“Then it’s okay. I’ll tell you some fancy stories if you’d like?”

“I’d love to.”

And Goodnight told him about all his known and unknown missions and tasks, and how some of them still weighed on his soul something terrible. He spun a lot of tales on the spot too, but most were memories rather than anything, and Goodnight felt relieved after telling any of them to Billy. It was the first time in his life that someone actually listened to him and heard not only his voice and the words he opted to use, but who also got to see the scars which that cheery smile of his tried to hide from the others.

 

***

 

As the time passed, Billy started to find Goodnight’s stories even more fascinating, capturing, and he often found himself drowned in Goodnight’s voice, warm and raspy waves of soft, crawling tales, half of them like feverish dreams and the other half like nightmares of the warzone. He started to warm up to him enough to tell parts of his own story, to show some of the scars that weren’t left on his body but on his very life, to admit one or two of his failures as a decent person and a cool-headed judge of reality; he wanted to give up everything that was him, that truly and wholly made Billy Rocks what he was today, and he felt that he could trust all of this to Goodnight without a second thought. His only problem with telling was the way he should break it to Goodnight, the way to tell him all but not enough to make him leave. However, after a while, he gave up planning and trust himself to fate, letting it guide his speech and thoughts freely – when he’d felt that it would be a good time to talk, he was going to. So one day, when they sat huddled together on Billy’s bed, warm and cosy under a heavy blanket draped over their shoulders, sipping their tea, he closed his eyes and hummed.

He couldn’t just start telling him that he had been an assassin, could he? He had told him already that most of his wounds had been gotten from his work, that the caution he displayed was also a result of it, as well as his current sort-of-job as an occasional bounty-hunter. But outright saying it? Telling him that while Goodnight had killed to save their Intergalactic Union, he hadn’t cared the slightest about it and had murdered people for a living – first to avoid being captured again, then to get credits enough for a decent meal twice a week, and by the time he’d joined the gang he had been feared and his hands had been soaked by too much blood. He had seen no other path to follow, so he had done what he had been the best in: killing, slicing throats and threatening the right people for the wrong goals. When his eyes had opened, he had quit and tried his damned best to disappear, but from the gang, there had never been a free way out only a free way in, and Billy had learnt it the hardest way. His mechanical heart was the shining example of what could happen to someone thinking themselves better than a nest of snakes and pack of wolves mixed.

He sucked in a shaky breath, and at that, Goodnight’s head turned towards him, his eyes shining with an unasked question in them. Billy shook his head, his hair falling around his face, already longer than when they’d meet long months ago – he was going to grow it a bit more, since Goodnight liked to card his fingers through it and kiss the black strands when he got sentimental after a nightmare or a difficult day. It was a nice feeling and Billy was craving for it. This, this here and now, it wouldn’t feel nice, Billy thought, and leant his head on Goodnight’s shoulder, sighing and stilling himself again.

“Want to talk it out, cher?”

“No.”

He felt Goodnight’s hand cover his own, fingers rubbing his whitening knuckles and paling fingers, trying to offer him comfort in the same way Billy had been doing when Goodnight had one of his worst nights of terror and memories. This, this part, Billy decided, was a bit nice.

“But I have to. For myself just as much as for you.”

“Alright. Go on then, darling.”

And Billy steeled himself and after a few stumbling, barely coherent sentences he truly began telling his story, the events of his childhood and the times following, his years alone and his years even lonelier in the gang. He told him about the way they repaid long years of him defending their asses by going after Billy and nearly killing him – which was closely followed by the surgery that saved him and left him with his heart tied to the core of his ship.

“There was no city close enough, so the doctor did whatever he could right then and there, and when I woke up, he asked, which one was my ship. I pointed at it, and fainted again. Next time I woke, he greeted me and told me that my fate and my ship’s fate are intertwined, and I should treasure them the same, because they are quite literally the same. That’s why I can’t go too far from it – it would cause malfunctioning, and that would be like a heart attack, a bit more fatal, if I the doctor was right. When he first told me all this, I felt dead. And very, very miserable.”

Goodnight, who were quiet since the beginning of his confession, drew him close to his side, and when he looked at Billy, he had no anger or disgust in his eyes, but concern.

“Are they still out there?”

“No. They got disbanded a year after or so, by a rival gang, I think. They aren’t after me if you’re worried.”

“I’m worried only for you, cher.”

“Thank you” Billy whispered, and turned his head slightly to hide his face in Goodnight’s shoulder. It was warm and safe, and he wanted to cling to this feeling forever.

“Are you, eh…”

“What? Disappointed that you weren’t something else but a gun for hire?”

“Yes.”

“No. I’m not. I’m absolutely happy.”

“What?!” That was the last thing Billy thought would be said, but hell, Goodnight always found ways to make life interesting, that’s for sure.

“I’m glad that you trust me, that you told me all this. It will be safe with me, I swear.”

Billy actually let out a shadow of a smile at that, and turned – this time properly – to the side and slid his arms around Goodnight’s neck, drawing him closer and closer, until they were so close they both had to close their eyes.

“Thank you, Goody. Thank you.”

And Billy kissed him, and kissed him and kissed him again.

 

***

 

“Ready to sleep?”

“If I can stay?”

“You’ve been sleeping with me for months, Goody. Of course it’s today when I kick you out” Billy rolled his eyes and felt his lips curl into a gentle smile as he turned away from the other man and sat down on the bed. When he leant back his hair fanned out on the pillow, contouring his sharp features with long, silky black locks, and Goodnight’s heart might have done a small flip at the sight – he loved Billy’s hair, it was nice and soft and smelt like the paradise itself. “Come on. If you freeze your feet any longer standing on the floor, I’ll consider sleeping alone. Keep away your icicles.”

“Naw” Goodnight drawled and joined Billy under the blankets, pulling him into a loving hug and pressing a quick kiss on his shoulder “you love me too much, mon cher.”

“Hm. Maybe you’re right” Billy said, his voice dropping to a teasing tone. He turned towards Goodnight in the tight embrace they were sharing, and ran his fingers along his jawline all the while staring in his eyes, grinning as a fool when Goodnight raised a hand to his own chest. His handsome, scarred, fantastic Goody.

“Just maybe? Oh, the way you wound me…”

 

***

 

Goodnight turned on his back, hand reaching for Billy’s arm, still half-asleep, eyes still closed. Billy leant over him and kissed him gently on the mouth, fingers finding their way to Goodnight’s chest to trace incoherent patterns on it. Billy felt his heart beat, incredibly fast, faster than someone’s who was only stirring should have been. He cupped Goodnight’s face and studied his expression: dazed, almost-awake and smiling, no signs of a nightmare or any unkind memories that could have resulted in his waking up and current state.

“Goody?” Billy opted to ask him, a silent whisper of the name turned into a careful question of his well-being.

“I had a dream…” Goodnight started and took Billy’s hand into his own, then lifted it to his lips and kissed every finger. Billy saw that tell-tale playful grin first in his eyes and only then on his mouth, as Goodnight breathed the rest of his explanation “We made love in it. Felt heavenly, and you looked gorgeous, mon cher. I had you and you had me afterwards, and I lost myself to the pleasure we were giving each other. I want it, Billy. Do you?”

Their relationship had only consisted of kisses and cuddles, of sharing a bed and sharing their lives in stories they hadn’t told anyone else, but they had never shared their bodies, never shared pleasure before. They had been content with what they had, but now that Billy faced the question, he decided that he’s not against the idea of adding some extra activities to their daily routine. He grinned and kissed Goodnight, deepening it until the man was moaning under him, and stroking his neck with an almost impatient vigour.

“Yeah… You lead me, Goody, wherever you wish to.”

And Goodnight did lead him, showed him what it was, being loved by someone, taken apart piece by piece, letting the heat run through one’s self as it was cherished in the most ancient way. He reacted to every touch, every kiss, and returned them all, caressed Goodnight’s thighs and stroked his manhood as if it was his own, and let his other hand dwindle about on his ass, stroking the pale skin hid beneath the blanket. The words Goodnight had muttered earlier kept returning to him, and he couldn’t get free of their effect on him. ‘I had you’ -  it echoed in his head and ventured into his chest and then lower, to stir up the fire in his groin even more, to make wanting to be claimed even more appealing than it was for the first thought. When he pulled Goodnight closer with his legs, when he pulled him in for a heated kiss, when he brushed his erection against Goodnight’s, they all made him weak and trembling, and he would have normally despised being in such a state, but now he welcomed it and cherished it, and he led Goodnight’s left hand down to his own ass, and whispered a hoarse please, and oh, how weird but how good it felt, having Goodnight move in him, even if it was with only a finger yet. He waited, waited for Goodnight to deem him ready, and when he did, and entered him, Billy drew him closer and breathed his name against his mouth between kisses and silent moans of pleasure. He couldn’t keep his hands still, his fingers roamed across Goodnight’s arms, his back and hips, and he felt light-headed and drunk on pleasure. Making love with Goodnight was definitely something he loved, he decided.

.

***

 

As they were laying there, nestled beneath thick blankets, basking in the heat, Goodnight placed a hand on Billy’s chest, just above where his heart was supposed to be and kissed his shoulder.

“Still doesn’t beat.”

Billy’s voice was rough, deep, but also sad around the edges, Goodnight noted. He massaged a few soothing circles into his skin there with his thumb, and drew the man closer, kissing under his chin, on his jaw, his ear, then finally, his lips. He loved kissing in general, had loved it before going to war and after that, but something hadn’t been quite right with his kisses until Billy. They had felt hollow, meaningless – and let’s face it, they had been. People he’d bedded, people who had pretended to enjoy his company and not just his dick had been numerous; they’d always felt the need to sweet talk to him before or after the fuck they had been there for, and with their honey-coated words they had always managed to tear into his old wounds a bit. But Billy – oh, Billy was a different tale. With a fond smile he remembered the time when they had spent a whole day in the spaceship together, the first time he had really felt unwanted and slightly scared for his own life. The glares Billy’d sent his way were worrisome to say the least, they had made his skin itch and his instincts had kicked in so hard, he’d almost looked around for a gun.

“I know, mon cher. Does it still bother you?” He looked at Billy’s face and took in the sight; the way Billy’s eyes seemingly changed colour depending on how light fell on it. Now it was obsidian black in the dimness of the cabin, quickly turning towards him as his eye clicked. Click-click-clack as it adjusted – so silent, yet he knew that Billy heard it.

“Not anymore.”

“And this? My eye?”

Billy reached up and closed Goodnight’s eyes, then Goodnight felt the bed dip as Billy pushed himself up, supporting his weight on his left arm. The next thing he sensed was Billy’s disappearing hand from his face and a gentle kiss placed on both of his eyelids. Neither of them spoke: it was just Billy’s personality and Goodnight – so unlike himself – was reduced to being speechless. The ex-assassin had shed considering glances at his direction after partnering up, maybe contemplating if Goodnight could shoot him at the first try if it came to that , or not. Now, however, Billy just told him without words that he accepted this part of him too, and if it wasn’t a beautiful indicator of how much their relationship had changed, then Goodnight didn’t know what would be. He pulled his lover back under the covers, back to his chest, cradling him close and embracing him. Billy slung a leg over his mechanical one, and swung one hand over his waist, his palm warm and scarred, caressing his back tenderly. This was one of those moments when Goodnight thought that he might be falling in love with Billy again and again, even though the love he already held in his heart for him seemed much more than he had ever felt for anyone.

He closed his eyes and murmured a silent ‘sleep well’, already half asleep. The kiss he received on his forehead was Billy’s own way of telling him the same.

 

***

 

The ship was shaking as the other cruiser, that hadn’t appeared on the radar, blast it, closed in and attached its claws to the outer panelling of the spacecraft. The structure around those point where they were connected was shrieking, and Billy felt these pained sounds in the centre of his very being, as if someone was scratching his insides with a metal fork. He seized Goodnight’s arm and steadied himself while grabbing a few of knives off the wall, getting ready to fight whoever was attacking them. He might have felt weaker, curse this damned connection to the dying energy-core, but he knew that he would fight until his end – but he didn’t want to expose Goodnight to the possibility of dying. No: Goodnight had been through enough, and he wouldn’t let anyone harm him further. If they were coming for Billy – okay, he would deal with them and that’s all. But if they were after Goodnight, Billy knew that they would wish for death long before he was finished with them – that is, if they boarded them and not decided simply on blowing them into space dust. His ship had basic guns but not enough to even get through the enemy’s shield.

When the first boarding capsules were shot into the hull of the Saengmyeong, Billy could have laughed from relief – maybe they still had a chance after all. He heard eight loud thumps that meant eight armed to the teeth mercenaries. He could deal with them, he knew, but what about after? If they had no one belonging to them on board, they could as well shoot them to pieces. He pulled Goodnight to the side, and whispered into his ear.

“Goody. Can you go to the controls?”

Goodnight nodded, and wetted his lips with his tongue, but didn’t speak.

“Okay. You have to be ready and watch their cannons – if they start to glow, you have to get the ship as far as you can and as fast as possible. You have the perfect tool for looking, don’t you? You’ll see it right away. Okay?”

“Yeah. What if they come after us?”

“They won’t if you blow them up. They have to lower the shields around the cannon when they shoot – it will be a tight fit but if you feel up to it, you could try and hit them. It would make the whole weapon system go haywire, along with the main generator?”

“Good. I’ll try. You?”

“I’ll deal with them. Good luck” Billy whispered, and taking Goodnight’s face in his left hand, he kissed his right cheek, then he ran. He ran before he could convince himself that blast it all, he wanted to stay with Goody. He knew that this was the only plan that could pull them out of this situation, but it didn’t make it any easier to let Goodnight stay alone, nor to go fight alone. Shit. He spotted the first three intruders, heavily armed with blasters, and he leapt from where they couldn’t have spotted him, and sliced the throat of the first, and made a pretty hole in the other’s skull. The third did fight back for a while but he went down too, after decorating Billy’s side with a pretty laser-burn. He was lucky that it at least didn’t leave any chances for too great blood-loss. The pain, however, that was almost unbearable when it started to sink in that he’d been shot.

“Three down, five to go” he closed his eyes as he murmured, and with one last look in the direction of the cockpit, he took off to great the others. He was lucky that the thugs had probably thought that going around in separate groups wouldn’t be a disadvantage for them – but in all honesty, it was. To this statement could have attested the newest two unwilling subjects of Billy’s welcome, if they weren’t dead, of course. Billy had learnt it fairly early that if you fight someone who came to kill you, it’s the clearest and easiest way to kill them before they get a second change at attacking – so he did exactly this. One stab in the ear for the smaller figure, and one in the underside of the chin for the taller, and they collapsed like lifeless training dummies. The lifeless was quite correct, Billy chuckled to himself, and went forward for the remaining three of their intruders.

When he approached the last group, that blasted piece of bent metal flooring had to squeak just loud enough to draw attention to him, and he cursed everything for a moment, then ducked out of the way of a laser shot, then another, before lodging his last throwing knife in the throat of the attacker wearing the thinnest armour. Before he could have grown happy, a sudden and sharp pain erupted from his side, gnawing at his insides there just as much as at his skin, and he felt down and touched something that resembled blood, lots of blood, but he didn’t want to know it. He had to keep them away from the control room, from Goodnight, and he knew that he would die if he kept up saving his Another shot blazed an inch from his head, and he pushed himself forward, bringing down the closest thug with him, slashing at his face and neck with every strength he could muster. The last one, a huge figure with a load of muscle, was the most pathetic, as he even begged for his life to be spared, but Billy had it carved into his soul ‘never leave one who could return after and finish the job on your head’. By that time Billy’s remaining knives had been tossed away, or were out of his reach in general, so he started hitting that giant of a man with his bare knuckles, and hoped that there would be some luck for him too, and that was the point where the ship shook suddenly, and pain coursed through his nervous system. He was going to faint, he knew, and that would be preferable without the living pummelling machine next to him, so he lunged at him with a final, pained grunt, and grabbing his hair, Billy smashed his head into the debris that had fallen around them, smashed until there was nothing but deformed, bloody flesh in his hand. He stood, and felt the wounds flare up, and his knees go weak, and heard a ruffling sound of inner plating being moved, then he was swallowed by darkness. 

 

***

 

It was terrible, but he would have to be hit real hard in the head if he was to abandon Billy’s plan – it was sound and he really couldn’t see any other ways out of the current situation. He swept off the fallen objects from the panels, and checked for the weapon and manoeuvring controls, smirking a bit when he found what he was looking for. Billy had shown him how to drive the Saengmyeong, in case he got sick or anyhow incapable of getting them moving, but he had to rely on his military memories of how to handle the cannons – which had been only covered quickly during his academy years, but being a field operative, he had not use of it, so it had gone into the ‘would never use, forgetting acceptable’ drawer of his mind. He had to still himself when he heard the first blaster shots tear through the miserable creaking of the structure around him, and he turned his head back to watch if the first signs of readying the cannons appeared. And oh God, they did star glowing, and he did what he was tasked with: shot back before the enemy could start firing at them, and sped the ship up to get away, but one blast somehow still managed to hit the ship. He fell on the ground, and crawled away from the now sparkling devices, and then out of the room. He got up and ran, he was wheezing for breath but felt as if he inhaled more dirt than air, his lungs hurt and his mechanic leg was swaying just a bit in the directions it shouldn’t. He needed to find Billy, he needed to. What if those people attempted to kill them while their men were still here? What if Billy was already…? No, no, he would be alright, he told himself, and pushed through a collapsed panelling and an equally dislocated wiring case. His left eye was ticking too loud for his adrenaline-heightened senses – maybe it was the rough dust it had to get out of the socket, or something; he didn’t care about it. And there! There was Billy, clutching at his side with one arm, looking frozen ahead of himself, not moving, not looking up when Goodnight shouted his name. It was a bad sign, very bad, Goodnight knew, and he sped up to catch Billy, who might have been stepping or falling forward – but in the next moment it mattered nothing. The ceiling groaned with a horrible metallic sound, and it was falling, and falling and Goodnight’s eye slowed it down, slowed it down to let him see as it obscures Bill from his view and opens the floor, making it and Billy both disappear in a cloud of smoke and rubble, and also knocking him headfirst into the wall. He felt nothing but a distant ringing for a while, then he saw white and golden red as he tried looking around. He was shaking and he felt the darkness creeping close to his conscience, threatening him with the promise of a neat little black-out and more than certain death. He kept blinking, not only trying to compose himself but also getting the dust, rust and anything else out of his eyes. He needed to find Billy, he had to get to him, he deserved better than to die alone on a godforsaken spaceship without anyone at his side – well, technically, he’d deserve to live, but Goodnight knew that he was in no choosing position here. He couldn’t do anything more to save themselves, so he wanted to give Billy the last thing he still got: his company be it as it was. And it would have been not only for Billy but for himself, too; he didn’t want to die alone.

He kept crawling through the debris, palms bruising and skin tearing, ribs hurting as if hell was trying to open a gate in his very chest for him, but he crept closer and closer to the torn opening on the floor that had swallowed Billy long minutes ago. When he got to its rim, and glanced down, a broken sob tore itself out of his mouth, and he had to turn his head. Billy was there, an unmoving body with glassy eyes staring upwards, staring into eternity and beyond.

“Oh Billy” Goodnight whispered and then let the black nothing consume him – there was no reason to stay anymore. He welcomed his end with hopes to see Billy again wherever they got to go.

 

***

 

When Goodnight opened his eyes, it was too bright at first for him to be comfortable, so he shut them again. He wanted to lift his hands and feel around for anything – the debris of the ship, Billy’s hand or a gun – maybe all of these, anything, really, he just needed a sign about where and when he was, but he couldn’t move.  He listened, not being able to rely on his vision, and he became aware that he wasn’t on a spacecraft anymore. He didn’t hear the tell-tale humming of engines, but he did hear other voices, and, as his mind also cleared a bit, he actually could place the voice in his head. He released a relieved chuckle, and tried opening his eyes again – this time, with success.

The man, who approached his bedside, smiled down at him, sadly, tiredly, but all the way thankful.

“Never again scare me like that, Goodnight Raoul Robicheaux, do you hear me? I literally had to dig out your sorry ass from under all that rubble, and you know that I hate digging, bad for the spine and all.”

“It’s good to see you too, Sam” Goodnight replied, and tried lifting his arms again, without any different outcome “Do I have my arms?”

“Ah, the doctor said that the sedative could kick a horse out, so that should be natural. The feeling will come back – and yeah, you still have everything” Goodnight watched as Sam turned his head to look at something at the other side of the room and smirked with his damned ‘too-amusing-to-not-mention’ smile, and Goodnight braced for whatever was to come “Or maybe more than everything. He’ll be alright. You have it worse if it calms you.”

“Billy” he couldn’t process the sudden memories about his lover, about the attack and his dread, about seeing the floor open under Billy, about wanting to die just to numb his aching heart. But Billy was here, and Sam had said that he would be okay. That he’s not dead. Goodnight let out a content huff of breath, then watched confusedly as Sam’s face blurred into the white background, and his cheery voice faded into slices of incomprehensible masses of sound.

            The next time he came to, he felt something soft and light draping over his fingers, and the first thought to flash through his mind was, that he really had arms. Not that he didn’t trust Sam, no, the man had been the most stable point of his life before meeting Billy and he would trust him with more than his life, but Sam had the bad habit of making the problems seem smaller than they were – God bless his positive mind-set. The next thought, after looking down to his hand, was a bit even more reassuring as the silky thing he had in his palm was Billy’s hair, with the man’s head resting only a few inches away, asleep and still too pale for being fully healed, but he was there, alive and – if he could move from his bed to Goodnight’s then he was feeling well too.

He turned a bit, careful not to wake his lover, and he felt the pain tear through every freshly healed wound of his, but he had to look at Billy better. Now, laying on his side he saw more of Billy, he saw his shoulders being bandaged and whatever small part of his chest was visible for him was also covered in gauze. Worry kicked in as he tried to think reasonably, and realised that they might have been too far away from the ship – and how was Billy alive then? Did they do something to his heart? Did they help him? Whatever was going on? He didn’t want to, but needed to wake Billy up, so he brushed his hair from his face and caressed his cheek, and Billy opened his eyes. He sat up straight, and smiled as he turned to face Goodnight, and clasped his hand in his own.

“Goody?”

“Yeah. Are you okay, mon cher?”

“Now?” Billy leant closer and pressed a quick kiss to Goodnight’s lips, then another “I feel wonderful.”

“Only now?”

“That you’re awake? Yes.”

“Sappy old man.”

“Says you.” Billy retorted, and Goodnight laughed until all of his fresh scars protested too painfully to continue.

“How’s your heart?” he asked, and Billy’s smile got even wider, and his eyes shone up with something that Goodnight only rarely saw in anyone’s.

“I got another. It’s not tied to anything, can you believe it? I’m free to go wherever I want to – even if it’s located five fucking miles further from my ship. I am” he stopped laughing for a moment, and Goodnight had to smile; Billy was even more beautiful while laughing than otherwise “I am free to follow you anywhere.”

“I thought I’d be following you, since I have no plans where to go?”

“Maybe so. We should follow each other and maybe we’ll end up in the same room?”

“In the same bed, too?”

“Only if you ask nicely” Billy kissed him again, and Goodnight felt his whole chest heat up. They got out alive, and Billy loved him, and oh, how lucky he was, how lucky they both were.

“Damnit.”

It was an unfamiliar voice that cursed, and that made them separate and look at their intruder. He wore a nurse’s green clothes and had his arms crossed in front of his chest. What was curious about his tone and the curse was the smile he sported: he clearly wasn’t angry or shocked but rather amused.

“What?” Billy barked out and Goodnight saw the protective instinct kick in. Oh boy.

“It seems I owe Sam twenty bucks. He said you two were an item, I said only friends.”

“Whatever made you think that?” Goodnight asked, completely confused. He knew that Sam knew him well enough to guess his relationships with people, but this man?

“Lonely people keep traveling, my friend, or those who seek peace. But couples? They usually stay where they are, together, safe. Drifting is bad for relationships. And Sam scraped you both off of a shipwreck.”

“Maybe, for some people it is so. We met while I was travelling around, and picked Goody up.”

“Yeah, blessed be that day, I don’t think I could have stayed on Sorra for another week. It was something I left behind with joy. By the way, I’m Goodnight Robicheaux and this is Billy Rocks, nice to meet you.”

“Vasquez, the pleasure is mine. These pills are yours” he said as he fished out a small pill box from his pocket “for when and if you have very strong pain. One in every two hours is the most that is advised to take. I wish you won’t need it, but better safe than sorry.”

“Just Vasquez?”

“Yeah, my first name is a bet. Sam is in, too. This far, there have been no winners.”

“You sure like bets, aren’t you?”

“Had some bad influence” smiled Vasquez, but it didn’t reach his eyes, no. Those were sad and empty for a flash of a second, then his cheery attitude returned as he waved them goodbye.

“So” Billy laid his head next to Goodnight’s on the pillow “When you are up and ready to go, where should we start?”

“Looking for a new ship if yours isn’t repairable?”

“Heh, so Sam didn’t tell you? It’s as good as trash.”

“Then it’s decided. We need a ship.”

“Are you lonely? Or angry? Based on our newest friend’s words?”

“Nah, darling, I have this wonderful man with me out there, who makes me happy and content, who is my peace and my home. I just want to see all that this universe has in store for us yet. Do you?”

“Yes, I do” and Billy kissed him again, and again and again, and he felt overjoyed and impatient – this life they planned on having seemed too good to wait for. But for now, he thought, for now it was enough that he had Billy close at his side.

 

***

 

‘Nothing’ was the answer he had given Billy when he’d asked about how he felt about his sister’s suicide, and in the reality of his own mind, he categorized it as even less than that. He lived and Billy lived too, and now, now he didn’t want to think about his family, not the living nor the dead. No, the only thing he really wanted at the moment was to sit next to the window of their new ship, and gaze out to the stars while listening to Billy’s silent humming in the background, smelling the fresh mulled wine in the air. He was content, and so was Billy, and everything felt like a real home for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by SheenaWilde who not only corrected my insufferable English but helped me develop this into what it is - eternal thanks for helping again :3
> 
> If I'll have the time and enough ideas, I'll write a companion piece set in the same universe, dealing with the relationship Vasquez and his "bad influence at gambling" share. Not in the near future though.


End file.
